


Past Habits, Present Realities

by listlessness



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Underage but nothing graphic, Mutual Masturbation, PWP, Sibling Incest, honestly this is just porn, no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 08:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18027992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/pseuds/listlessness
Summary: Old games and old patterns come back under the Hargreeves roof. The rules have already been set in stone.





	Past Habits, Present Realities

**Author's Note:**

> i just really wanted to write trash smut, pls&ty. 
> 
> more of my usual angst work coming back later kthx

They had done this as teenagers. Sort of. Closed doors down the corridors that led to bedrooms at the academy became a regularity as they had grown older, with everyone silently agreeing to not barge in. They were all allowed their secrets.

Sometimes closed doors would mean a range of teens, overpowered and overwrought, discovering newfound adolescent abilities. Bruises and cuts and bandaged wounds, made from others or themselves. 

Sometimes there would be shared secrets. Painful woes and shameful stories, whispered behind hands and into diaries. The remaining siblings would come together, to cry and complain and console. 

Other times, it would be to come together in the dark. Diego didn't know if the security cameras had ever been switched off or unmonitored, and at some point before his sixteenth birthday, he decided he didn't particularly care. Despite their otherworldly capabilities, they were still teenagers and they had been locked away from the outside world. Puberty hit them all, painful and hard in so many ways. 

Maybe the others did more. Maybe they did less. They didn't get along well, but they got along better with one another than they did with their father. A closed door was as respected a locked diary. Nobody ever knocked, nobody ever asked. 

Everybody had a role. Allison gave good advice. Vanya was a sympathetic ear. Luther knew how to wrap wounds, Ben told the best jokes. Diego knew how to break out of the academy when it all got too much. Five's room became a place of solitude, of meditation and silent prayer to curse the God that had cursed them. 

Everyone practiced kissing with Klaus. Diego knew that. He knew he wasn't special in that regard. 

And maybe it was weird, and maybe other families didn't do that, but they didn't have anything to compare themselves to. The closest they had to frame their world around was Sunday night television from precisely 1730 to 1900 (up a whole sixty minutes from their childhood years). _The Brady Bunch_ would play at 1800 and all the siblings on that show kinda developed crushes on one another through the years. It was reminiscent of their own world in that awkward way. 

They had been raised more as soldiers than siblings. Their bonds were complicated, the ties that bound them together knotted and frayed. Affection was in short supply in the Hargreeves household. 

Falling back into the same habit as adults was easy. Closed doors, the occasional peal of laughter from behind one, the sound of someone singing along to a song on the radio behind another. And Diego, pressed against the door as he tried to resist the urge to lift his hands and cup Klaus' face against his own. If he didn't allow himself to touch Klaus, then it wouldn't mean as much. 

They'd never gone much farther than that as teens. Diego had drawn a line long ago, had told himself, reminded himself, that Klaus was his brother and maybe this was weird, but doing _that_ was weirder. But years had passed and that line had become muddied and blurred, the edges no longer as easily defined as they had been, particularly when Klaus moaned against his mouth and the door rattled on its hinges. 

'Missed you,' Klaus breathed against his mouth. His breath was hot, his teeth sharp and catching at Diego's lower lip. 'Missed you the most.' 

The words, slurred and hungry and desperate, rattled down Diego's spine. It was what he wanted to hear, _needed_ to hear. It fed the part of him that longed to be longed, desperate to be desired. 

'I bet you say that to everyone,' he managed to reply, his voice thick as Klaus' mouth moved to suck right under his ear. 

_Fuck_ , he was hard. This was the part when they were teens he'd peel himself away, make his excuses, leave. It was impossible that Klaus hadn't picked up on it, then or now. Subtlety had never been one of Diego's skills. 

'No. No, just you.' 

As though to iterate his point, Klaus ground in close. The pressure, the heat, the feeling of Klaus' body snug against his own had Diego rolling his eyes back as he turned to find his mouth again. Kissing him hungrily, he wrapped an arm around Klaus' middle and held him tight as he tried to find some kind of stability. 

'It was always just you,' Klaus finished, the words coming out in a slurred moan. 

'You're... you're...' 

He tried to find the right word. A flirt, a tease, a complete and utter asshole. 

Klaus just grinned, wide and broad as he pressed his forehead to Diego's and slid his hands very deliberately up and under his shirt to claw at his stomach. 

'Incorrigible?' 

God, Klaus looked far too smug. His smile was broad, teeth glistening as the corners of his eyes crinkled and dimples formed in his cheeks. Whenever Klaus offered him that grin- now, or in years gone past when they had walked these lonely corridors together- Diego had always felt his resolve crumble. 

His hands finally dared to close around Klaus' waist. Small and lithe, he'd always been a scrap of a thing. He'd hit his growth spurt early, but had never quite filled out. Diego could feel the splay of his hips under his hands, the dip of his belly, the jut of his lowest rib. Klaus was waiting, _waiting_ , damn near quivering under his hands when Diego finally picked him up. 

There had been a game they'd played when they were kids. Diego would pick each of them up in turn, even Vanya, spin them around and then heave them in different directions. They had all delighted in finding out where Diego sent them. A crash mat, a couch, a trampoline, a soft patch of grass. And Klaus, rambunctious and dizzy for more, would pick himself and squeal as he ran over, begging to be thrown again. They never grew tired of it, even as they had matured. Even now, a good six inches taller and fifty-odd pounds heavier, Klaus seemed to shiver in anticipation for it. 

With a heave, Diego thrust him towards the bed. A delighted laugh came from Klaus as he bounced against the small mattress, landing nearly in the middle of it. It gave a warning creak, but Diego couldn't bring himself to care. 

Klaus' fingers grabbed at his shirt the moment he was close enough. He pulled and tugged, forcing him down on top of him. Desperate and needy and so damn greedy; that was Klaus all over. He forced the thick, black material up, shoving it up just so he could drag his tongue up the middle of Diego's sternum. 

'You never let me touch you,' Klaus mumbled against his chest, his wide, green eyes looking up at him as Diego managed to throw his shirt off. 'As kids. _So_ unfair, keeping all of this to yourself.' 

He was coaxing Diego back, scrambling up from underneath him so he could crawl onto his lap. A hand to Diego's shoulder, another against his hip to force him up against the wall. Diego's jeans were tight and hot, but he didn't have a chance to even loosen them as Klaus settled down on top of him. 

'We were always a little busy,' Diego managed to reply, choking out the words as Klaus' fingers found the ring that sat snug against his nipple. 'I- we- there was no time.' 

There had been rules. That singular, invisible line in the sand. Little things that Diego had put in place to stop him and Klaus from going too far. But no matter how weird Diego thought it was, he also knew how deliciously _wrong_ it was. Maybe they didn't have other people to compare it to, friends their own age with siblings. A part of him wondered if it had been part of their father's wider experiment, to see how they'd develop and grow without extended interaction with others. His own twisted game of _Flowers in the Attic_. 

Too many thoughts. Too much history. He didn't care for that now. 

His mouth found the side of Klaus' throat. High up, just under his ear. Klaus had always been loud and needy, even now. His voice was high, cracking a little as Diego's fingers dug into his hips. The denim of his pants was dark and smooth, well-worn. Diego's fingers skimmed over it, a nail catching as he pulled on a belt loop, a rivet, finally a button. Klaus was trying to roll into his hands, up and up. He grabbed a handful of Diego's hair, held him in place, tugging and demanding as he gave a filthy moan. 

'More- Diego, _please_ \- ' 

There was an inevitability to it all, Diego supposed. It was bound to happen. They had all been so messed up, their concept of healthy relationships damaged before they'd learned how to read. Five was the only one out of all of them who had a stable relationship, and he was in a long-term relationship with a _mannequin_. 

Klaus grabbed Diego's hand. He shoved it down, forced it over his hot, hard erection. Diego could feel it throbbing, his own straining against his jeans. Tilting his head, Klaus kissed him, mouth open, moaning as he sucked upon his lower lip. It was difficult, Diego's fingers fumbling as he forced the zip down, completely and utterly unsurprised to find a distinct lack of underwear. His fingers wrapped around Klaus' length, feeling him shiver and shudder against him as he finally took hold of him. 

'God, that's- that's- _please_ \- ' he begged again, moaning Diego's name into his mouth as he began to rock into his hand. 

A part of Diego wished they'd done this earlier. Klaus' cock curved into his hand, the head fitting perfectly under his fingers as he dragged his hand up. Breaking the kiss, he looked down, taking in the sight of the flushed skin (and, with a mental eye-roll, he noted that of course Klaus was neatly shaved. _Of course_ ). He wanted to taste, his tongue running over his lips as he tried to figure out likely he'd put his back out if he bent over. He wasn't given much of a chance to think too long or hard about it, though; Klaus was pulling at his hair again, hauling him back into a hungry kiss. 

'Quiet,' Diego tried to huff as his hand dragged over the head. 'You're going to get us caught.' 

'Isn't that part of the fun?' Klaus snickered, nipping at Diego's chin. 'The possibility of getting found out? You didn't seem to mind before.' 

Klaus laughed, a soft giggle that faded into a moan as Diego pressed his thumb to the slit of his cock. Melting into him, Klaus dragged himself over his hand, licking and biting at whatever patch of skin he found. Diego's throat, his chin, his lip, his earlobe. With every nip, Diego found his resolve breaking, his own moans bubbling up to match Klaus. 

Dropping his hands, Klaus began to fumble with the fly of Diego's jeans. He pulled at them, cursing under his breath, at the dead designer who had come up with the idea of a button and fly combination. Shoving them open, Diego's laughter causing Klaus to scowl, he reached inside. Klaus' hands were always cold, a curse and a blessing in one. Today it was the latter. 

Stretching out his fingers, Diego caught his own erection with his fingertips. It dragged over Klaus', the hot-slick brush of their skin moving together. Klaus gave a yelp, loud enough that Diego was sure someone would have heard. Their lips met, Klaus' wide, green eyes shut tight as he writhed against Diego. His knees were digging into Diego's hips, his fingers curling and pulling at his shoulder. The hot-sweet drag of Klaus' erection against his own had Diego trembling, mouth open and teeth knocking as he twisted his hand around both of them. 

'More- ' Klaus moaned. Then, quickly, 'close- please, more, Diego, _please_ \- ' 

Cupping the side of his face, Diego held Klaus close. His thumb brushed over his lower lip, each touch rewarded with a soft kiss. 

Klaus came nosily, desperately. With his head back, he gave a strangled shout as he spilled over, thick drops of white coating Diego's belly. One of his hands, having gone back to being burrowed into Diego's hair, finally released and smacked against the wall. Diego could hear the sound of his nails scratching against the paint, the drag of his sweaty palm down the wall. As he swayed forward, he gave a shuddering sigh. 

With Klaus' body soft and lax in his arms, Diego hauled him in closer. A small hiccup and croak came from Klaus as he rutted against him, sucking a deep bruise against his neck as he thrust into the warmth of his body. Over and over, ignoring the sticky layer of sweat and come, and instead focusing on the rich, spicy shampoo Klaus used, the lingering scent of patchouli that clung to his skin. By the time he came, a deep groan slipping from the back of his throat, a deep purple bruise had formed on Klaus' skin. 

Panting, the smell of sex and sweat permeating between them, Diego groaned. He was sticky. So was Klaus. Nails dragged down his chest, a tongue trailing over the front of his throat. Lifting his head, he hissed as he felt Klaus tug on his nipple ring with his teeth. A laugh came from him while Diego groaned, pulling on his ear to coax him back up. 

'Asshole,' Diego mumbled. 

'Still missed you,' Klaus sighed with a huff as he collapsed back against him. 

A lot had changed over the years. But, as Diego held Klaus to his chest and kissed his temple, he knew somethings had stayed the same. 


End file.
